Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne
by Cpl.Hicks
Summary: Based on the game. Seen in Dante's eyes, he's hired to hunt down a demon by a mysterious man. Unfortunately, Japan goes to hell. Literally. It's up to Dante to figure out how his target is involved & decide his true path. Highly controversial. Chp2 up!


(_Author's Note: This story is based on the "Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne" game. For those of you unfamiliar with it, it's a PS2 game that featured Dante in it. The timeline takes place after DMC2. My story is told in Dante's eyes since in the game he only played a minor role. Even if you've played the game, this story is going to be pretty fresh since Dante was gone a lot. And please bear with me Shin Megami veterans. I've never played the other games so I'm going on my best judgment in regards to characters like Hell Biker, etc. I hope my conclusion takes you by surprise. ;)_

_Two warnings I wanna stress. One, this story has a LOT of spoilers of the game so if you plan to play the game and don't want to know about the events then turn back. ;) Or... if you don't wanna bother leveling up demons and spending 100+ hours playing only to see Dante in a few scenes here and there, then you're in luck. _

_Now onto another warning that I TRULY want to stress on. The game itself contained controversial issues, sensitive to the religious person. Because I want my story to remain faithful to the game I'll be tackling these head on. Therefore, as a forewarning, if you're easily offended by this then stop here. I don't want to read a review saying I'll be damned in hell for writing such blasphemy. Or that this story should be banned. This story isn't based onmy values and religious views. It's based on the game._

_All right, for the same-o-same copyright stuff and other warnings... I do not own Dante nor any of the characters featured here. Capcom and Atlus do. Lucky bastards, lol. Furthermore, there will be harsh language, violence, and perhaps some strong sexual situations. Because the game is so bloody long, this obviously is a story-in-progress. Finally, a really minor thing. The protagonist that you control in the game will be named "Akira." You see, the game let you decide what to call him so there's no official name for him. So I'm calling him Akira since it sounds cool and because he's obviously Japanese, lol. Okay, then, now that that's outta the way... without further ado! Onto the story!_)

**Chapter 1: Jackpot**

* * *

It was one of those letters, y' know? The ones that tell you your business is goin' to shit and you've got so-and-so days to vacant the premises? Yeah, it was one those. It wasn't the first I received in my mailbox either. Nine. Ten. Man, I lost count already. Not that it matters anyway. Devil May Cry is shutting down. It's a done deal. I was able to hold them off for a while but they've pretty much had enough of me, 'specially with all the controversy that always circulated 'round my place. Cults. Devil worshipping. Witch craft. Ha. All rumors, of course, but based on what was _really_ goin' down in Devil May Cry. Sheeit, if only those losers knew the truth about me. Then maybe they'd loosen up and give me a break.

I'll probably have to sell my drum set, guitar and other equipment at a pawnshop so I could pay first month's rent at that low-down shitty apartment in Hawthorne Street. Worse comes to worse, I'll have to settle for that gig Enzo set up for me. That should give me enough c-notes to last me until I get back on my feet.

Crumbling the letter into a ball, I throw it towards a wall. It bounces off it, hits the corner of my desk and lands smack into the trash bin. Perfect. As always. Tough I can't toss the bastard who's been sending me these letters into the trash too.

I sigh, leaning against my chair and crossing my hands behind my head while putting my legs on the wooden desk in front of me. I try to think of ways to get by this week but the noise outside distracts me. The sounds of sirens and neighbors yelling echo inside. Not much else to listen to in a hellhole like this. And I'll admit, it can be very lonely here sometimes, what with Trish and Lucia being gone and all.

I look at the photograph on my desk. Trish smiles brightly in the photo, her long golden hair tied to a ponytail. She wears a black blouse and hip-hugger jeans. Meanwhile, Lucia shyly grins, half her face covered with the flip of crimson red hair. Her dark and loose gray sweater matches the long brown leather dress she wears. I, myself, stand between them with one arm over each of the women's shoulders, sporting jeans and a white shirt. Part of my wavy silver hair covers my right eye. It was sunny that day, picnic weather, so we decided to hang out at the rooftop.

I knew the business was going downhill months prior to their departure. But I didn't want them to worry about it, nor suffer. So I told them to split. Get going and experience what life had to offer. Enzo asks me many times if I regret my decision but I just ignore him. To be honest, though, when the weather's cold and the place is very quiet, I wonder what's become of them. Both women had entered by life in unexpected ways. They became more than my partners too. They became my family. Trish was the one with the steady head. Lucia was the passionate person of the group. For the first time in my life, I had people that actually _got me_. They understood what was going on in my head. I didn't have to tell them. Explain it. They just knew. Now they're gone.

It seems everything in my life keeps getting caught up by the wind. Nothing ever stands still. Not that I'd want it to, though. That's life for ya. Unstable. Relentless. But I'm getting tired, getting too old for this shit. Each day… I feel like a part of me is dying inside. Seen too many things, things I probably would've been better off not seeing. As winter arrives, all I can do is sit in my chair and wait for a call to come in. I suppose I should be happy. The fact that business is low means I've done a pretty damn good job. Maybe too well.

I keep remembering the first day I opened this place up. My job was simple: hunt down devils. Small and big. The balance between good and evil was up in the air. Devils, intent in reclaiming Earth as they did before the 'Holy One' intervened, endlessly roamed the human world. Killing. Feeding. Hopefully to take back what they thought was rightfully theirs. Or so I've been told. In fact, the more I think about it I'm not really sure who or what to believe anymore.

Was it ever like this for you, father? Did you have doubts? About the cause? Yourself? No… I guess not. You had mother. And me. Together, we gave you the strength to keep fighting. Me? I don't have anything to keep me aloft and I'm afraid, after all this time, that no matter how hard I try nothing I do makes a fuckin' difference anymore. I made this business as an act of revenge for mother and Vergil's death. But I also did it so humankind wouldn't fall into the hands of powerful devils like Mundus. I took up your torch, father. And now? Now the business, my home, is going to the doghouse. The very people I want to save are the ones who don't give a damn. Even if I tried to explain, tried to reason with them, they still wouldn't understand. Worse, if I ever told them what I was, it'd only complicate things. They'd just see me as nothing else but a spawn of a devil.

Demonic blood courses through these very veins of mine. Even though I've mastered it, controlled it, it's still as alien to me as it was on that first day I unleashed it. Nowadays I don't bother using it. Each time I do it seems to be getting the best of me. I've never been ashamed of my half demon heritage before but now… Things have been getting complicated lately. I've been having these weird dreams. I hear the cries of demons everywhere, calling out to me in their native language. Whispering bizarre things.

_Rejoice, brother… Our time has come… when all demons shall free themselves from the bonds Kagutsuchi has imprisoned us in…Claim your rank and guide the young one towards his destiny… Fulfill his vision and become his guardian… Conception… Conception… Conception… _

In my dream, I see an entire city flushed with light then reduced to nothingness. All the while, I keep hearing the demons whisper the word 'conception.' Conception? What the fuck is a 'Conception'? And who's Kagutsuchi? It sounds Japanese. Now that I think of it… that city. It kinda looked like Tokyo…

Damn it… I need to stop takin' this seriously. It's probably nothing. This wouldn't be the first time I've had dreams like this before anyway. Ever since I was born other devils have attempted to get into my head, hoping I'd switch sides and help them in their pathetic cause. Yeah… as if.

Standing on both feet now, I grab the keys to my bike from the desk's drawer. Then put on my red trench coat. I think I'll head to Enzo's bar. Have myself a drink to calm the nerves. Maybe know more about that job he had in mind for me.

* * *

The bar smells like it always does: the stench of days old laundry mixed with the moist of sweat. The lighting here is very dim too, almost depressing. Kinda hard to look anywhere beyond five meters. The smoke of lit cigarettes creates a hazy setting, consuming everyone and everything. The bar must've had better days once upon a time but Enzo could give a rat's ass. Not that I should say anything about his lack of a good maintenance system. I'm no Martha Steward myself. Still, at least my toilet ain't clogged up with shit and all.

The place is pretty quiet, usual for a weekday. The jukebox at the corner plays a country song about love and lost. The ceiling fans above squeaks as they rotate. A light bulb flickers on and off again near the restrooms. A couple occupies the pool table but they're too drunk to actually play a round. Much too busy with foreplay. There's a working girl talking to a bald man far back of the bar. And a few feet away from them, I see a sixty-year-old man sitting in his favorite booth, staring at his drink and humming to himself. For as long as I could remember, he's been sitting at that exact spot each night doin' the same thing. He has the face of a man ready to greet death, yet he seems content. Something about that is discomforting, perhaps because it's the same face I wear from time to time.

Looking away from the old man, I sit myself at the bar's counter. From the other side, Enzo notices me.

Enzo, a chubby but very buffed fellow, is just half my size. Yet, in a fight he could certainly hold his own. His arms look as if they could break a truck in half. He used to be in the Marines, his arms branded with symbols representing his former position as a first class sergeant. Semper Fi, motherfucker.

Yeah, he was one of the best and most respected soldier boys 'round. Up until he started selling weapons and some other shit to people he wasn't supposed to. Ah, Enzo… a mercenary from the very beginning… Maybe to the very end.

"Ya look like you haven't been laid for quite a while, Dante," Enzo says, greeting me with a grin while wiping a shot glass with a towel. His yellow teeth glisten against the dim light of the bar.

"Funny. I was about to say the same thing about you, asshole." I smile.

Enzo chuckles. "Heh, even when they're about to kick yur sorry ass to the curve yur still playin' Mr. Bigshot."

I look at him.

The chubby man chuckles again, reading my expression. "Oh yeah, I know all 'bout what's goin' down wit' you lately. 'Course I do! I've got ears everywhere. Or did ya forget?"

Enzo puts ice and pours some liquor into the glass he just wiped. Then he slides it towards my direction. I nod a 'thank you' and down the drink. The liquor sends my throat flaming. I grunt in satisfaction.

"Battery acid?" I ask.

"Sheeit, you wish, boy." He walks towards my direction, stopping in front of me. Placing his elbows on the counter and peering down at me, his face gets serious. "So, I take it you wanna know if that 'job' is still available."

I finish the rest of my shot, patiently waiting for him to continue.

"Jus' so ya know… it's gonna be that type of 'job' you always seem to have a problem wit'."

I don't say anything; just twirl the ice in my glass.

"Oh, c'mon, Dante," starts the chubby man. "Don't be like that. It's the only job I can offer you right now. I swear, you gotta get outta that high horse of yours, man."

"It's got nothin' to do with my ego, Enzo."

"So? What's the problem then?" He takes a moment, looking at me. Then he sighs, walking around the counter and takes a seat next to me. It takes him awhile to start talking again, when he does his voice is soft. "Dante… you and I… we go way back. You know that, right?"

I can tell by the tone of his voice where he's goin' with this already.

"Yur one talented man," he resumes, "Ya got skills that I could only _dream_ of havin'. Yur a fuckin' killin' machine an' I respect that about ya. It's as if you were born to do this for a livin'. What I don't understand, though, is why it's so easy for you to go 'devil huntin' ' than man huntin'. Killin' is killin', no matter how you slice it. It's the way of life. Man just seems destined to off himself. Might as well make a profit outta it."

I haven't taken a hit man job in years. I used to feel like a total hypocrite for doing it. Still feel like one now. I mean, on one hand I'm tryin' to stop the forces from threatening humanity. And on the other, killing them for a fee? Am I any better than demon lords like Mundus? Or is Enzo really right? Am I just… a person born to kill? And is humanity really worth saving since it seems intent in destroying itself anyway? Looking around at this bar, everything seems to suggest so. We're all just waiting to drink up our last shot. The old man. The couple playin' pool. The prostitute and her client. Even Enzo and me. What's the point? Why the fuck do we even bother livin' if the life we live has been reduced to artificial happiness? Got a problem? Pop in a pill. Wanna have thirty seconds of bliss? Get a blowjob. Can't stand the person you're with? Get another.

"So," Enzo interrupts my thoughts, "You in? Or what?"

"Tell you what…" I say after awhile and take a silver coin from my pocket. "Let's flip for it. Tails, I take it. Heads, you give me another round and we won't be havin' this discussion ever again. Agreed?"

He raises an eyebrow. "How come you get to call it?"

" 'Cause it's my coin. My rules. You game?"

"Heh, yeah. I guess. But even if you win, yur still gonna find yourself on the streets by tomorrow and I ain't gonna be charitable 'nough to let you crash at my place."

"I'll manage."

"Fine by me the. Flip away."

I nod. Then flip the coin high above our heads. Right as it's about to fall on the counter I catch it in a blink of an eye. Enzo edges closer to me to see the results. I slowly open the palm in my hand.

"Right," he finally says. Then stands up. "I'll get that drink for you then."

Nodding and putting my lucky coin away, I look back at the old man sitting in his favorite booth while Enzo fetches me another drink. The old man is fast past asleep now.

* * *

The ride back home isn't a pleasant one. By this time tomorrow I suspect I'll be looking for another place to live. Funny that I don't seem to care though. Home is where the heart is, that's the old sayin,' right? Somehow, I'll survive. Screw everything else. I never had help before I established my Devil May Cry headquarters and I got through okay. I just hope Trish and Lucia don't ever call in to find out what's happened. 'Course, the phone's been cut off since last week…

Above, the moon is lit up brightly and the sky roars. I look up, just in time to see a brief flash of lightening. It'll rain pretty badly tonight, or so the weather forecast mentioned yesterday. Funny how Mother Nature has as bad a moody side as humans do.

Raindrops begin to fall as I near my place. I speed up in my bike, hoping to get there soon before it really starts to pour. As I do, I can't help but to recall some of the inner questions I had back at the bar.

Is humanity worth saving anymore? I used to think so. I fought with every ounce of me to spare it from the world devils wanted. But… what if I've been wrong all along? And what if demons are the same? What if _they_ want what humans already have? Freedom. This question never occurred to me in my younger days. I was just a man seeking revenge for the murder of my mother. And even that asshole, Vergil. I was willing to go through anything and anyone to get what I wanted. And then Trish walked into my life. And nothing was ever the same again.

Born a devil, Trish was created by Mundus to kill me. He molded Trish into the shape of my deceased mother but in no way did he resurrect her soul into his creation. Yet, when the time came, Trish chose to sacrifice herself to save me. She sacrificed herself, just like my mother did.

Then there's Lucia. Another devil created by the sick mind of a God-wannabe, Arius. She, too, deliberately chose to protect human life than serve the fate Arius bestowed on her. She even wanted me to off her in fear that her demonic side would take over someday and attack humans.

And of course, there's my father. A demon knight who chose to break his allegiance with Mundus and fight alongside humans. He even took my mother, a mere human, as his bride.

So how do I explain all this? Coincidence? Or have devils possessed this… _inner light_ inside themselves all along? I don't know… I probably shouldn't be thinking about this too much. Deep down I know the answers but if I were to accept them as truth, then that'd mean I've be on the wrong all this time.

I reach within a block of my headquarters. Frowning, though, I notice a large and sleek black limousine parked in front. Who the hell can that be? I drive my bike behind it and finally put on the brakes. Just as I get off the driver of the limousine exists with an umbrella. He goes around and opens one of the passengers' doors. A young woman dressed in an all black dress suit emerges from the vehicle, carrying a silver briefcase.

She has short and jet-black hair. Her skin, a fair and creamy tone with cherry red lips. A black lace veil covers her face, all the way down to her nose. The driver escorts the woman as she walks towards me. Her high heels click-clack against the street's pavement.

"Mr. Dante, I presume?" she says, revealing a strong Asian accent.

"Who wants to know?"

"Who I am is of no consequence. But I do have a proposition for you, or rather, my master does."

I eye her carefully. "Sorry, but I don't talk to people who haven't given me the password."

I've always made it a rule for everyone to tell me the 'word' if they wanted my attention. They usually got it from Enzo or from another informant of mines who would check out their profile. In the past, I used to be careless. Either people that came to me were out to kill me or expose the truth behind my business. Some even went as close to discovering what I was. I couldn't deal with that shit anymore so I created a system that helped me narrow down the people who really needed my help from the people who were just lookin' for trouble.

"Password?" the woman smiles, as if my rules are childish to her.

"It verifies to me that you're here on 'official business.' _If_ you know what I mean, lady."

She continues smiling. "I regret to inform you that I don't know the password. But I can tell you of another word that I'm sure you're familiar with." A long pause. "The Conception."

My mouth dries up suddenly and I stand still for a long time. Conception? It's like I've been knocked in the guts. Just the mentioning of that word gives me a vague description of the dreams I have been getting lately. But how could she have known? Is she a demon? No… she has no scent to indicate so. But in the limousine… someone's in there. Someone _very_ powerful.

"Shall I introduce you to my master now, Mr. Dante?" the woman asks politely, noticing that I'm looking at the limousine.

The power I sense could rival Mundus himself! Part of me wants to throw down my guns right now. Still, it's not everyday powerful demons come by and politely ask to come in. Usually, they just trash up my place, leaving _me_ to pay up all their mess.

The woman and the driver return to the limo. The driver opens the opposite door the woman came from. From the black limo, the mysterious woman extracts a wheelchair. She fixes it in place, making sure all the locks of the wheelchair are secured. Then she places it closely to the limo where a pale white figure begins to emerge. I take a few steps forward, wanting to get a closer look of this powerful entity I'm picking up.

A man, probably late in his seventies slowly seats himself into his wheelchair. He wears a white suit and holds a long cane. On his lap is a dark velvet bag. He has shoulder-length golden hair with a complexion terribly pale, even for a man his age. Yet, it's unlike anything that I've ever seen before. So white… like a porcelain doll. I can only stare as both the driver and woman make sure he's seated comfortably in his wheelchair. The woman strolls him towards my direction and suddenly, without warning, the man looks me straight in the eye.

Those eyes… those dark eyes… There's something extremely alluring about them. No, not alluring. Hypnotic. The demonic blood within my veins begins to course. Simultaneously, I hear the voices of a thousand demons shouting in my head in unison…

_Conception! Conception! Conception! _

Those demons… Their emotions… So strong… So very strong…

A tear nearly falls from my eye when I finally hear the woman again.

"Mr. Dante?" the woman says, her face almost worried. "Are you all right?"

I blink, trying to ignore the sadness that overwhelms my heart. I retain my composure quickly. I can't afford to let them see me like this. I've gotta pull myself together.

"Let's get out of the rain. Then we'll talk."

* * *

Inside, the old man and woman carefully absorb each detail of my office. From my drum sets, to the pool table, to the stereo system, to even my small library of demonic books at the back, nothing is overlooked. However, the man seems particularly interested in the demon trophy heads I've hung all over my walls. His expression is a mixture of both disgust and delight, as if he hates what I've done but admires me at the same time.

In the meantime, I check out one of the spells I've drawn in the center of my office. The spell acts as an alarm system, containing five circles with symbols in between each of them. If the spell glows, it reveals to me that a person or persons inside the room contains a supernatural power within them. The symbols themselves indicate what 'class' the person in question is, ranging from the Wicca symbol to Devil symbol. The number of circles activated or glowing tells me their power level. According to what I'm seeing now, this readout confirms my suspicions. This guy is top class in the Devil department.

No one but me can see it. And even if a demon saw it, they wouldn't understand it since it's written in ancient demonic language. Not that modern-day crap demons have been speaking lately. Yet, somehow I get the feeling the old man knows about it since he looks below his feet once in awhile. Amused.

I sense my weapons, Rebellion, Alastor, and Ifrit, reacting. All of them are hidden deep in my basement. All were created from the blood of demons and at one time or another, used against humans. Yet, I use them to hunt devils. Swords… gauntlets… I've got all types of weapons down there. Though, personally, I tend to stick with my trusty twin guns, Ebony and Ivory, and add in a sword on a demon hunt. Like children, my weapons cry to me. They too sense this phenomena power.

"My master and I apologize for coming in an unexpected timely fashion," the woman says, standing behind the man in the wheelchair. "We tried to contact you but it seems your phone is not working."

"It's been cut off," I say as I take a seat behind my desk.

The woman simply nods. "Shall I explain why we're here?"

"By all means. Explain yourselves."

She takes a moment to look at the old man who nods her. Then begins to talk. "We came here because my master requires your service, Mr. Dante. In return, we shall pay you handsomely…"

Walking towards my desk, she places her silver briefcase on it. Then opens it, turning it around to show me nearly one million c-notes stacked neatly on top of each other. I retain my cool but deep down I'm amazed. This could be enough to keep my business goin' and then some. Still, this much money… There's definitely a big trade off involved.

"Exactly what do you have in mind?" I ask her calmly, trying to see through that veil of hers.

The woman leaves the opened briefcase on my desk and returns to her post behind the old man.

"My master lost something very dear to him," she explains, "a candelabrum."

"A 'what' again?" I ask, not sure I heard her right.

"A candelabrum…"

I chuckle to myself. "Lady, in case you haven't noticed, I'm no finder of lost things. Not that I blame you for misunderstandin' me. I _am_ a special private investigator, but there's a great emphasis on the word 'special' here. Didn't you read the sign outside?"

"But this is a special candelabrum."

"Heh, I bet it is." I get up from my chair and remove a shotgun fixed on a wall. "Look, I don't have time for this crap. So I tell you what, since you two have been so polite an' all I'll forget the fact that there's a powerful demon in my office and I'll give you both a full day head start to take off before huntin' you down. Hell, I'll even throw in a suggestion for ya. There's an antiquity store a few blocks from here. They've got enough candelabrums to replace the one your old man lost. And they sell 'em half off too."

The woman reacts with a stiff face. "We were told you'd be more serious about your job."

"Sweetie, I am serious about my job." I stand in front of them, placing the tip of my shotgun on my shoulder. Hoping to send them a message. "But finding a candelabrum? That's a joke. Not a job."

"I can assure you, this particular candelabrum contains more power than you can possibly imagine."

"Really? Then please, help me out here. Why are you willing to pay me this much," I nod my head towards the briefcase, "just to find something as tedious as this?"

"Because… it lights the way to the Labyrinth of Amala."

I lower the shotgun to my side. The Labyrinth of Amala…

I know all about this place. A possessed Vatican priest wrote of it, saying it was the core of hell itself. The heart of it. No one knew what lay in it, not even powerful demon lords like Mundus who sought it out. It was kept secret and only revealed to a chosen one. A champion of some sort. To my knowledge, no one has actually set foot inside this place. Guarding it was a labyrinth, created to test the person who desired entry into hell's core. Thus, it was called the Labyrinth of Amala. This person needed twelve candelabrum to guide him or her into the dark depths of the labyrinth before reaching the heart of hell. Could what they're looking for be one of them?

Sometimes, in my dreams… I can see this place. It almost feels like… home. I wasn't the only one who dreamt of it though. Trish. Lucia. All of us, tied by the demon blood residing in us.

"I assume you understand the seriousness of the situation now, as indicated by your silence," the woman replies gently.

I decide to return back to my chair. "Correct me if I'm wrong, lady… But, I've always heard this labyrinth required twelve of these special candelabrums. Not one."

"You're well informed, Mr. Dante," she says, impressed. "Your reputation proceeds you. You are correct. The Labyrinth requires twelve of these items to allow entry into the core of hell. My master and I already know where the other candelabrums reside and are taking measures in retrieving them. However, we need you to recover this specific one because the one that possesses it is a powerful demon. This task requires a man of your… talents."

I set aside my shotgun to grab a small bottle of liquor and glass I always stash inside my desk's top drawer for occasions like this.

"Say I believe you," I start as I pour myself a drink. "And I take the job. How do I know what you're telling me is true and that you're not fuckin' around?"

The woman turns her attention to her master and whispers something to him. I'm about to take a drink when I suddenly see the old man hand her the black bag he's been holding onto. Taking it, the woman opens it, revealing an exotic candleholder. As if with a will of their own, the three candles in it light themselves. A supernatural blue fire blazes in each of them. It's… one the candelabrums…

"This is the Candelabrum of Knowledge," she says, offering it to me.

I slowly put my drink down. Then receive the item given to me, eying it quizzically. The flames react to me, sensing my demonic blood. I myself feel a strange sensation overcome my body. It's warm. Comforting.

Setting it on the desk, I look at the woman and old man. These two… For them to be in possession of something this extraordinary means they might act as the Labyrinth's gatekeepers. Still, they ain't doing a good job considerin' they're asking me to help them recover one of the candelabrums.

"How did you manage to lose them?" I ask curiously.

"They were stolen by several demons. They all desire to gain entry into the Labyrinth of Amala, but only a chosen person may pass. It is a privilege, not a right. Therefore, entry to the Labyrinth of Amala is forbidden to those not given permission."

"Permission?" I look back at the candelabrum in front of me, watching its flames. "Funny you should say that since it makes me wonder… who exactly is giving away the free admissions passes down there?"

The woman appears a bit distraught, as if my question surprises her. She glances back at her master who remains quiet throughout all this. I try to read his face but it's very blank. Dead almost. What's the matter with this guy? Demon got his tongue?

"I cannot say," the woman finally answers.

This woman obviously takes me for a fool but I nod in content anyway. It doesn't matter really. I'll find out who's pulling the strings here. There's a demon down there in that core, it might be the 'true demon' I keep hearing about in ancient demonic tablets. It'll only be a matter of time for me to get my answers. In the meantime, I'll just have to get as much information from these people as I can.

"You'll probably answer me the same way again," I start and finally take a sip of my drink, "Still, enlighten me. What's down there? What's inside the Labyrinth of Amala?"

A long pause. "I can only say that it holds the secrets of the Underworld. Only the chosen one can unlock them. However, should you take on this task, there might be an… exception to this rule."

I gaze at her. Then grin understanding her well. "You mean I might have a peek down there too?"

"Perhaps. If you are successful in your mission, that is."

I sit back against my chair, liking my clients' proposition very much. "Fair enough, lady. Okay, next question before I sign on to this deal. What's this… 'Conception' you mentioned to me early on?"

"The Conception…" the old man finally speaks, his voice soft, "is the rebirth of this world."

The room suddenly sounds quiet. Gone are the sirens. Raining. Neighbors yelling. Babies crying. The sounds I typically hear. It's as if time itself froze. The old man's eyes lock into mine. In a strange way, he reminds me of my father. It's just the way… he looks at me. Like a loving father talking to his son.

"The world will be reborn," he resumes quietly, "as a vortex plane. It is here that it will be shaped and molded into a world envisioned by the exceptional few. From these few will the future of demon and humanity alike be altered.

It is called the Conception because each of these people will have individual ideas of how the next world ought to be. A silent world, where human emotion becomes unnecessary and peace dominates. A survival of the fittest, where only the strong prosper but order takes over chaos. An individual-based world, where the individual is placed above all else, leaving selfish desires such as greed obsolete. These are but a few ideas. Conceptions."

"That so?" I ask, not impressed. "That sounds pretty borin' if you ask me."

"How so, Mr. Dante?" the woman asks.

"Life is all about twists and turns, lady," I reply, twirling my shot glass between my fingers as I say it. "No matter how many times a person thinks they can change the world into their vision it's gonna get fucked up in the end. Freewill, y' know? It's a bitch. But it's a blessing too."

"You would… rather have a world of chaos than a world with no violence."

I chuckle softly. "I don't know about that. But I ain't too thrilled livin' through someone else's interpretation of life. Don't you think so?"

The old man smiles, cradling his cane. Pleased with what I said somehow. I ignore it.

"Well, we're not here to discuss my philosophy on life." I set aside my drink and place my elbows on the desk, leaning towards them. "So let's get back to business, shall we?" I look at the man. "Back when you said 'reborn…' How exactly can a world be 'reborn?' "

The old man smiles again. "In a few days from now, you will know your answers. And hopefully by then, you will understand the necessity of it all as well as how you fit into this grand scheme."

I look at him for a very long time. Deep down, I feel like I'm making a deal with the devil himself. Quite literally, in fact. There's just something about this proposition of his that doesn't feel right. I feel it in my gut. Still, the pay's good… I could really use the money. And what the hell, this a chance to hunt down some demons.

Fuck it. What do I have to lose? Sitting here, letting my life waste away? Or getting back on the horse to kick some ass?

Standing up from my desk, I walk toward the lady and old man.

"All right…" I nod my head. "You got yourself a deal, folks. I'll take the job. I could brush up on my hunting skills anyway."

Which was totally true. It's been nearly a month and a half or two that I've had a decent demon hunt. I sorta missed that adrenaline rush I always got.

"Excellent," the woman replies.

"So you got an idea where this demon I'm supposed to hunt down is located?"

"We do. However, we can't track down his precise location. That candelabrum," she points at it, "will guide you to him. Whenever a candelabrum is near another the flames will react violently. As I mentioned earlier, however, several demons that stole them are also in possession of them. Your mission is to retrieve only one of them. We shall handle the other demons."

"Yeah? But what if they want to pick a fight with _me_? You said they all wanted entry into the labyrinth. But they'll need all the candelabrums, including the one you gave me. And if what you say is true, the same way my candelabrum can sense my target's item then they should sense mines too." I look at them sternly. "I ain't the type to back off a fight if it comes down to it, y' know. 'Specially if some demon scum wants what's mine. Pay me some more cash and I can retrieve _all_ your lost candelabrums."

"No, Mr. Dante," she replies evenly. "Your mission is to retrieve _one_. We plan to punish the other demons ourselves. Should you ever come across one of them _do_ not kill them. I'm sure a man of your status can find other creative ways of dealing with them."

"Suit yourself, then. Just don't blame me if some of those demons come to you with missing limbs and bullet holes." I grab the candelabrum from my desk. Then look back at my clients. "So where should I start?"

"Japan. We've already arranged an airplane ticket for you."

"Japan?" I blink, feeling a knot begin to build inside my stomach. It almost feels like déjà vu.

"Is something wrong?" she asks.

"No… of course not."

"Very well. When you've succeeded in your mission, my master and I will come for you."

"You might wanna tell me the rendezvous spot, sweetheart. I don't have a cell phone on me anymore and I doubt you're psychic to know where I'll be."

She smiles. "Don't worry. We will find you. Just do your part. We will reward you for your efforts."

I frown and gaze back at the brief case. "Wait a minute. I thought that was my reward."

"Think of that as a down payment, Mr. Dante. What my master and I have in store for you… it is unimaginable. It will amount to more than what you have right now."

Incredible. There's _more_ to this reward? Man, this just keeps getting better and better. First the money. Then a peek at hell's kitchen. And now _another_ mystery reward. Dante… this is gonna be the ultimate gig you ever landed in your life. Jackpot!

* * *

(_Author's Note: Oooh, looks like Dante really landed himself a big client. But will he bite off more than he can chew? More fun to come!_) 


End file.
